The Nightmare, Revisited
by Joywriter
Summary: Lawrence has been mailed a map that will lead him to the bathroom, and to the truth about what happened to Adam. Rated for language.
1. Back Into Hell

_Lawrence has been mailed a map that will lead him to the bathroom, and to the truth about what happened to Adam. _

Set after Saw 2, but not meant to be an attempt at Saw 3.

**The Nightmare, Revisited**

This is fuckin' insane, Lawrence thought as he brought his car to a halt. It all seemed surreal.

He reached to the passenger's seat to retrieve the thing he would need to find where he was going. It had arrived a week earlier in the mail. But why? Who had sent him such a thing?

It was simply a faded piece of paper with a map drawn on it. A set of instructions told him that it was a map from his house to the place where he had been held.

He looked to the building as he shifted into park. It was the sewer plant about thirty miles out of town. He flipped the paper over, and on the back was a map of its interior, from the side door through a maze of corridors, and then to…the room.

Over a year had passed since then…

He turned off the engine and continued to stare at the building before him. Is this really the place? It was hard to put it into context. After all, he had felt so isolated and trapped that putting such a place into perspective with the outside world felt incredibly incongruent. Surely such a place couldn't be real, and surely it couldn't be less than twenty minutes from the comfort of his home.

Lawrence had passed out sometime along the journey out of the bathroom. He woke up a month later in the hospital with little memory of what had transpired. Bits and pieces had returned to him over the past year. The man in the room with him…Adam was his name. The dead man on the floor. The micro-cassettes. The hacksaw.

The paralyzing fear. The mind-numbing pain.

He had watched the news carefully to see if there was ever a discovery of the bathroom or of Adam, but he had never heard anything.

He feared what it would mean.

With the map in hand, he began to approach the entrance. The clear blue sky and gentle breeze was little comfort. A large brown door loomed before him. Under the command of his shaky hand, it slid open effortlessly.

Strange, he thought.

He gave his eyes a moment to adjust once he stepped inside out of the warmth of the sunlight. A long, poorly lit corridor stretched out before him. His heart raced as he closed the door and began the trek down the gritty passage. The smell was overwhelming, and the clicking of his shoes on the concrete echoed sharply off the walls.

He glanced to the map, noting that he would have to climb down a ladder about fifty feet ahead.

He noticed faint traces of…something…on the floor near the walls. He stopped to take a closer look. It could be anything, really, but he felt his stomach tighten at the possibility that these stains, faded are they were, may be his own blood. Someone had gotten him out of there, someone had dragged him out.

How did he get out, anyway? And who had saved him?

So many questions that just didn't seem to have answers.

And where was Adam?

The corridor came to an abrupt end, and Lawrence peered into the blackness of the hole on the concrete floor.

Back into hell, only this time, there was nothing to fear. No chains, no hacksaws, no killer, no game.

Only memories.

What the fuck am I doing here? What's the point? Do I really want to see that…room…again? Do I really want to find the answers I seek?

Fear makes heroes of some men and cowards of others. Lawrence knew that no one would know if he backed out now and just went home. Cowardice doesn't count if no one knows…

Right?

A doctor by profession and an explorer by nature, his inquisitive temperament won the battle, and he lowered himself to all fours and eased himself into the hole. The ladder was gritty, and even in the obscurity of the subterranean corridor, he could see the black filth on his hands.

As his eyes adjusted to even dimmer light, he removed a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his hands. The smell was even worse now, but he glanced at the map and carried on. A sharp left. Several turns in every direction. A maze of tight, narrow passages whose walls were lined with corroded pipes and rubber hoses. Odd sounds erupted from time to time, like the constant flux of water.

The corridor suddenly gave way to an even dirtier, even more run down path. He didn't remember any of this, but he hadn't exactly been paying attention to detail that day. He had one mission and that was to get out. By then, he had been immune to dirt and grunge, so it didn't really matter.

Lawrence stumbled and fell into the wall. He heaved a sigh when dust and dirt began to fall from overhead.

"Oh, fuck," he muttered.

_Stumble_. It summarized nearly every aspect of his life. If he didn't concentrate on his movements, he easily lost his footing. How long does it take to adjust to prosthesis? It was less cumbersome than crutches, for sure, but so far, it had proved a real challenge.

He regained his balance and continued on. He checked the map once more. A right just up ahead. Just as he turned the corner, he saw it. A long, messy trail of blood, unmistakable even in the obscurity.

This was the only section of his trail that remained. But why was it still here? He remembered how each movement had taken all his strength. His handprints dried into the blood served to remind him how each inch forward had brought him closer to freedom, and even closer to death. The right side of the trail was noticeably messier than the left. The footprints…

Footprints?

They were there. Someone had clearly stepped in his blood with their bare feet before it dried.

He journeyed onward, reliving his struggle in reverse. How much ground had he covered on his own? Each moment had been an eternity, but he had never stopped until his body shut down on its own. He refused to stop. He had made a promise to his daughter.

_Don't worry, honey. Everything's gonna be okay._

When he said it, he had no idea how he was going to come good for it, but he had managed to keep it only because his wife was a brilliant woman. But he had also made a similar promise to Adam.

_Don't worry. I'll bring someone back, I promise. _

But that hadn't been enough. Adam needed some shred of hope to sustain him. Time was running out and Lawrence was already going into shock, and he didn't have the time or the resources to offer much else…

_I wouldn't lie to you. _

As he thought about it, Lawrence felt his insides go sour under the building knot in his stomach.

"Oh god," he breathed absently. Had he let Adam down? Or by some miracle, had he escaped?

He stopped when the body of David Tapp came into view. Had he not remembered passing him on his way out the first time, he wouldn't have recognized him. Time had taken its toll, and the sight was unnerving. But why had no one removed his body?

He continued on, around corners and through passages, checking the map periodically for fear of getting lost. And there it was. The door. But something was different. Where there had been a solid wall, a corridor extended back and turned right. Was this new, or had he just been so disoriented that he never noticed it the first time?

His curiosity was quenched by the fear and dread coursed through him, his pulse thundered in his ears. His questions would all be answered once the door was open and the light exposed the truth. No more riddles, not more what-ifs. He'd either be able to breathe easy from now on or be tormented by…

…He didn't want to consider the alternative.

If Tapp was still here, was Zepp still here? And the man in the middle of the room?

Lawrence stood in place, staring at the door. He couldn't summon the courage to take the final step. Truth can be so ugly. Not knowing Adam's fate left room for the possibility that he was still alive and well somewhere, living and doing whatever it is he does. Did he want to kill that comforting ignorance, those possibilities, and remove all doubt by opening the door?

_This isn't about you, you selfish bastard, _his mind retorted. _This is about Adam. If he's still in there, don't you want to get him out and give him a proper burial? Don't you want to restore his dignity?_

He had been expecting such thoughts to emerge. They always did, and he knew that his paternal side was right. He had to put his own fears to the side and do right by Adam…if indeed that was the case.

He wanted to take a deep breath before going on to settle his nerves, but he didn't dare, not with the smell.

He walked past Tapp and approached the door. The cold, steel handle graced the door. He closed his fingers around it tightly and pulled hard. It slid open easily, but it grinded loudly as the wheels passed along the upper track.

Darkness. Where secrets lurk. The smell of death met him instantly, and his stomach lurched forth instantaneously. Hot acidic vomit splattered onto the floor. If the smell of the room had this effect on him, what would sight do? He stood back up and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

Ambivalence is a crippling emotion. This was his last chance to turn back. To turn his back on the truth and go on living, hoping against hope that Adam had been rescued. The darkness concealed the truth.

If he was a liar, he didn't want to know it. If he had let Adam down, how could he live with himself?

_Don't be selfish…_

"Fuck!" Lawrence shouted.

Tears began to burn his eyes. Why had he come here? Why was he allowing himself to relive this nightmare? He didn't want to be here, but he was paralyzed. He couldn't bring himself to go on, yet he couldn't just walk away. Not now.

This moment was not unlike so many others he had lived through over the past year. Inner torment plagued him on a daily basis. He was no stranger to it. And it had a way of blinding him. He couldn't focus on anything. Now was no different. Yet had he been paying attention, he would have seen a quick flash of a black cape as it disappeared down an adjacent corridor.

Lawrence's shoulders dropped as he reached around the doorframe and found the light switch.

Would the lights even work? Part of him hoped they wouldn't. It could justify his choice to turn away and forget about all this. But there was only one way to find out…

With the flick of the switch, any self-serving excuse had been obliterated, erased by the harsh fluorescent light.

But he couldn't bear to look. Not yet.

_You're only prolonging your misery, _his mind said. _No amount of waiting can prepare you for whatever is waiting for you in there. Just do it and get it over with. _

Lawrence rubbed his face and stared at his feet. Hesitantly, he stepped into the doorframe and looked up. At first, he wasn't sure what he was seeing. Things weren't as he remembered them.

A man whose throat had been slit lay haphazardly on the floor in front if him. Beyond him was another man shackled to the wall by the ankle, stretched out lifelessly on the floor where the old man had once been. Zepp was little more than a mound of rotting flesh beneath the toilet where he had last seen him.

And then there was Adam.

"Oh god," Lawrence said, tears rising in his throat.

He was sitting on the floor against the pipe that held him prisoner, slumped over like he had simply given up.

Lawrence's heart broke at the sight of the man he considered his friend. He slowly stepped into the room, never taking his eyes from Adam's lifeless form.

_I wouldn't lie to you…_

His words were vile, and he threw up a second time.

"I'm so sorry, Adam," he murmured, his body overcome with sobs. He wiped his eyes and continued to creep forward slowly toward the back of the room.

It was disturbing to see Adam like this. The voice that had pleaded for him to stay with him was forever lost. What kind of hell had he endured? What torment had he suffered as he waited for the end to come? Lawrence's heart ached so much that he began to tremble.

It was then that Lawrence noticed Adam's arm. He got closer to get a better look, and there it was – a jigsaw piece carved into Adam's decaying flesh. And if that wasn't insulting enough, Lawrence's gaze fell to Adam's ankle. Surely it wasn't true… but it was.

Adam wasn't chained. The manacle and chain lay near the toilet, lifeless.

Hot searing anger began to rise within Lawrence. What kind of sick joke was this? Who had removed the shackle? Zepp was the killer and he was dead before he had left…so… Lawrence insides sank. So if it wasn't Zepp, who was doing this?

Lawrence had always been a rational man, always tried to find the simplest and most likely explanation for a problem. And as mind-bending as it was, he believed that Occam's razor was true in this case - the only explanation was that Zepp wasn't the killer.

Lawrence's mind was spinning out of control when suddenly his eye caught something odd lying on the floor near the other bodies. Curious, he crept toward it. It looked like…no…it couldn't be…

Could it?

Against all sane objections to the contrary, Lawrence bent down and picked the thing up. It was red and dry, but it was …latex or rubber. It looked like mangled piece of flesh…a fake piece of flesh.

"What the fuck," Lawrence muttered absently.

Lawrence's breath caught in his throat. This is too insane to be probable, he thought. But the only body that was missing was the old man's, and this…thing…looked frighteningly similar to the wound he had on his head.

His gaze traveled to the far left corner where he had been chained. The nerve endings at the base of his leg began to tingle at the sight of his severed, decaying foot.

He quickly looked away.

There were times when he wondered just how twisted the big picture really was. Just when he thought that maybe he had some grasp on the whole scheme, that the picture was finally coming into focus, some detail would sneak up on him and leave him fumbling for the pieces. He would then be forced to reassess and reassemble the puzzle, and each time, it just got more twisted and more complicated.

He turned the latex over in his hands, as if by doing so, it would reveal some truth, some piece of the illusive puzzle, some key that he wanted to find but simply couldn't see.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Naturally, he regretted it, and began to cough at the nauseating smell. He reached for his cell phone on his belt. He wasn't sure how well the reception would be from underground, but he had to try. He dialed 911 and waited for the operator.

He looked at Adam, and the last words he had said to him flooded back.

_We're gonna be okay?_

He had failed Adam. "I'll get you out of here," he whispered through tears as the operator came online.


	2. Requiem, Regrets, and a Friend

Lawrence and his family pulled into the church parking lot around one o'clock three days later. The parking lot was forebodingly empty. He ushered Allison and Diana into the foyer and made sure they were seated. Allison noticed that Larry wasn't ready to sit down.

"Where are you going?"

"I need to find the minister. I'll be right back."

Four caskets were lined up at the front of the room, all closed, and his heart sank. Lawrence left the sanctuary and went off to the pastor's office. He knocked on the door.

"Come in," said the voice.

Lawrence found Reverend Mason behind his desk, looking over his glasses as prepared notes. He was a thin, elderly man with a kind face.

"Hello, Dr. Gordon."

"Hi. Um…I just got here, and I'm a little concerned about the…attendance of this service."

"Oh?"

"Yes, there are no more than thirty people out there. What's going on?"

Reverend Mason removed his spectacles and set them on the desk. "I know this probably isn't going to be easy for you to hear, considering that you were part of this, but those four men have…this isn't easy to say, I'm sorry."

"What are you talking about?" Lawrence asked.

Mason paused, assessing his choice of words. "Well, this is a funeral service for a crooked cop, a drug dealer with more enemies than he can count, an orderly with no family or friends, and a spy with a family who has disowned his and no friends. It's not the kind of group that's bound to stir up much sympathy in the city."

Lawrence was shocked at the words Reverend Mason spoke. Could it be true? Had Adam really been alone in the world?

This knowledge only served to deepen his guilt.

"I'm really sorry, Lawrence," Reverend Mason repeated.

Lawrence quickly turned and left the office as a flood of tears threatened to overcome him. He disappeared into the men's restroom. He didn't want Allison and Diana to see him this way.

If he felt rotten before, it couldn't compare to how he felt now. Lawrence really had been his only friend, his only hope, and he had left him to die. He braced himself against the wall and forced himself to stay upright.

"Lawrence Gordon?"

He jumped at the sound of the voice. He looked up to see a young man standing near the sinks that he didn't recognize. Then again, after all the interviews he had done, people who had never met him knew his name.

"Who are you?"

"My name's Scott Tibbs."

Scott Tibbs. He recognized the name. But from where?

"I used to be a friend of Adam's," he said.

Of course, he thought. Finally, someone that knew Adam. "I'm glad you're here," Lawrence said.

"You know who I am?" asked Scott, clearly surprised.

"Yes," Lawrence said as he wiped his eyes and composed himself. "Adam mentioned you. Something about a rusty nail."

Scott smiled at the memory. "Yeah, still can't believe I did that."

"When was the last time you saw him?" Lawrence asked, hoping that maybe Adam had had some companionship in the days before he was pulled into hell.

Scott sighed and rubbed his face. "Oh, it's been years. At least seven. We had a fight and well, we went our separate ways."

It wasn't encouraging news.

Scott chuckled nervously and said, "It's a shame though, to think that something so stupid ruined our friendship. And now, well…" his voice began to break.

Lawrence moved to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Scott said as he reached for a tissue.

"We all have regrets," Lawrence said darkly.

The sound of organ music began to play in the sanctuary.

"We'd better go," Lawrence said. "Are you here with anyone?"

Scott shook his head.

What was it about people being alone? Didn't they realize just how precious friends and family are? "You're welcome to sit with us."

Scott eyed him curiously as the music continued to play in the background. "I couldn't impose."

"Don't be ridiculous, I insist."

Scott conceded and they made their way to their seat. And judging by the emptiness that filled the sanctuary, no one else had come in, and no one else would.

"Where have you been?" Allison asked.

"Sorry honey. I ran into a friend of Adam's," Lawrence explained.

Allison shifted her gaze to Scott, who smiled. Allison simply nodded and took Lawrence's hand as he sat beside her.

Reverend Mason took stage and began the service.


	3. More Than a Memory

Lawrence stood at the foot of the freshly turned grave. The rain was coming down in sheets as midnight approached, but even so, he felt he needed to be here. He hadn't eaten in days, and sleep was impossible.

The knowledge of Adam's death had opened up a whole new world of questions about the afterlife, a subject that had never before even piqued his curiosity. Where was Adam now, if he was "anywhere" at all? Was this really all there was to life? Was there anything to look forward to? Was there anything to fear?

He had the sinking feeling that his quest for the answers was nothing more than a sick attempt to alleviate his own guilt and torment for not keeping his promise to Adam. Thunder began to rumble overhead, and a quick flash illuminated the sky.

Strange, he thought. Never before would he be caught in a rainstorm in the middle of the night. But being here now made him feel… alive. The cold rain pelted down, and he was soaked, but it didn't matter. Adam would never feel the rain again, and such a thought made Lawrence understand that even though he would gladly trade places with Adam, even if to only appease his own guilt, he was still glad to be here in this moment.

Adam. He stared at the name on the grave marker. Adam was nothing more than a memory, and Lawrence had done what he had set out to do all along. Adam was out, Adam was free, yet as Lawrence turned away, he couldn't help but feel he was abandoning him all over again.

_I can't live like this_, Lawrence thought. _What am I going to do?_

He knelt down, his knees sinking into the wet ground.

_What am I going to do?_

The rain poured down all around him, and he knew that Allison was waiting for him. He couldn't spend his life at the foot of Adam's grave, regretting something over which he had had no control. He had been told that Adam's death wasn't his fault, that it was "Jigsaw's", but Lawrence never could bring himself to let it go. He harbored the burden of guilt. To not do so would be tantamount to selling Adam short.

He heaved a sigh as he rose to his feet, his hands and face numb from the cold rain. He had to go, even though he knew a part of him would always be here watching over Adam. If only he had done something different along the way. Moved faster. Acted smarter. Been more determined. But he knew Alison and Diana were waiting for him at home, and he couldn't spend his life pining for the departed.

Turning from Adam's grave was like being torn from himself, and he didn't hold back the tears as he was overcome by them. He could feel the pain, the numbness, the stinging, harsh reality in his body. He had never felt this sick with grief before. Without looking back, he walked to his car parked alongside the road. His heart screamed in pain as he sat there, a lost, broken man.

The next thing he knew, streams of blinding light roused him from a deep sleep. He sat up, gaining a sense of where he was, and groaned as he turned to relieve the crick in his neck.

He quickly sped off and within minutes, he was approaching his driveway. He had to park on the street, as a blue Honda was parked in this driveway. Grabbing his briefcase from the passenger's seat, he saw that the plates on the strange car were out of state. Wondering who his wife was entertaining, he made his way to the front door.

He found Allison sitting in the living room with an older man and woman. Even though he had never met these people, he instantly knew who they were.

Allison turned to greet Lawrence. "Honey, where have you been? I was so worried."

Larry set down his coat and case. "Sorry, I fell asleep in the car."

Allison eyed him curiously, but didn't ask the questions Larry knew were dancing in her mind. Turning to the guests, she said, "Larry, this Bob and Margaret Faulkner."

Larry extended his hand. "Pleased to meet you."

Margaret, a heavyset woman holding a handkerchief, shook Larry's hand. "I'm so sorry for what you've been through."

Larry's insides tightened as he shook hands with Adam's father, who looked like an older version of Adam.

"I'm sorry about your son," Larry said, knowing that he alone understood their pain.

"We don't want to impose," Bob spoke up. "We just came to give you this." He handed Larry a large brown envelope.

Perplexed, Larry took the envelope and stared at it.

"Well, we'd better be on our way," said Bob.

"Thanks for stopping by," said Allison. "You're welcome here anytime."

Their voices faded as Larry made his way to the kitchen to examine the envelope. What could it be? He found his pulse quickening as he turned it over and over in his hands before breaking the seal. He removed the contents from the package to find a vast collection of photos.

Of Adam.

Lawrence was filled with gratitude and an overwhelming sense of loss as he studied the photos. His vision blurred as tears swelled up. There were photos of Adam as a child, happy and carefree, there were several school photos, but there were few recent ones. Maybe two or three from his early twenties. Strange, Lawrence thought. A photographer with few photos of himself. Still, having thought that images of Adam would only ever exist in his memory, tainted by grunge and fear of the bathroom, Lawrence felt blessed.

Lawrence quickly wiped his eyes when he heard Allie close the front door. Even though he could sense her standing nearby, neither said anything.

Lawrence replaced the photos in the envelope, fighting to maintain his composure.

"You have no idea how grateful they are to you, for going back there and uncovering the truth," Allie said.

His back to Allie, Lawrence hung his head, knowing that although it had been the right thing to do, it had been the most difficult thing he ever did. He considered Adam a friend, even though what little they had had been strained. Larry found himself wondering if Adam knew that he wasn't angry with him for following him. He had never intended to harm Adam, and he certainly never intended to leave him for dead.

They had only had less than a minute together, and nothing that should have been said was said. Lawrence had assumed that there'd be time for that later, after he had found help. He took Allie in his arms and broke down for what must have been the tenth time that weekend. He was grateful that he could still hold her, that he still had time to right the wrongs he had committed against her, and even though he would never forget Adam or their struggle, it was time to leave the bathroom and all its horrors behind and focus on his family.

Adam would have wanted it this way. And the thought of Adam being happy made him smile.


End file.
